


in the small hours

by keeping_your_distance



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: After the Grand Prix, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Sharing a Bed, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, at least for this story, mention of vicchan only, yuuri has loud thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeping_your_distance/pseuds/keeping_your_distance
Summary: Earlier that evening, Viktor sent a message saying that he'll be returning from Russia tomorrow and they'll have to catch up the time they've missed training. In other words, Yuuri needs to sleep tonight no matter what happens.But he can't.





	

These nights aren't foreign to Yuuri.

  

 

It's been a while since he feels like his mind and body are not on the same page. Like gears clashing, his body is eager to rest after a long day of training but his mind is restless, frivolously standing ground against the waves of sleep. There are times when he manages to close his eyes and indulge in the short string of silence before his loud thoughts invade, becoming a cycle that Yuuri hates getting stuck in.

 

He knows the reason why: a couple days ago, Mila called Viktor about Yakov's sudden trip to the hospital. The shock of the news forced Viktor to pack a bag and pay a quick visit to his lifetime coach. He took Yuuri in his arms and squeezed, releasing silent SOS signs with every deep breath. Yuuri remembers rubbing circles on his back before seeing him off, reassuring him for the tenth time that day that he and Makkachin will be waiting for him when he returns.

 

It's been almost four days -- more than half of the week, even though he tries to pay no mind to it -- and the late nights since that day has taken a toll on Yuuri. Viktor did message him every now and then; the first was when he touched down, then a picture with Yurio and Mila when they picked him up at the airport that also had an attached message that read _missing you <3_. After that, he would take snaps of his meals, from breakfast to midnight snacks. He took a sneak picture of Yurio who reluctantly cooked his grandpa's pirozhki recipe before they went to visit Yakov. Yuuri texted him back and asked to bring some back (or if they can't, send a recipe so they can cook it here) if he can and can't help but notice how Yurio ties his hair into a high ponytail compared to when he last saw him at the Grand Prix.

 

Yuuri would have complained that his pictures were too much, but the pictures were a calming effect on him. If Viktor had stopped sending pictures of random dogs on the street, or a picture of Yakov yelling at them from his hospital bed, would he be more listless and anxious than if he didn't see them? Yuuri stared at the pictures thoughtlessly. What did Viktor think about when he captured the sights around him?

 

He was a man who fought so hard to keep the audiences entertained. He was well-known and well-loved, yet the same man holds onto Yuuri's arms tightly, grateful for the new life that they created together and yearning for the affectionate love that he had missed all these years.

 

It had only been two months since he won silver and the exciting announcement of Viktor's return. It had only been two months since they returned to Hasetsu, Viktor greeting himself formally to ask Yuuri's parents for their son's hand in marriage. He recalls the lingering warmth of his parent's embrace and the tingling sensation of the tears that ran down his face as they give them their blessings.

 

The restless nights will soon come to an end. Earlier that evening, Viktor sent a message saying that he'll be returning tomorrow and they'll have to catch up the time they've missed training. In other words, Yuuri needs to sleep tonight no matter what happens.

 

But he can't. 

 

He refrains from grabbing his phone, his fingers twitching to check if there were any new messages from Viktor and possibly read some articles in the hopes of eventually falling asleep. He knows it would do more damage to him the next day and it screams the start of irregular sleeping patterns, so he stays still, looking at the ceiling and watching the iridescent lights from the outside flicker through his curtains and onto the walls. At this point he doesn't think, just loosely following the lights move to every corner of his room until Makkachin shuffles around by his side.

 

It rekindled something in Yuuri's past, remembering his beloved Vicchan who comforted his 12-year-old self through nervous nights before local competitions at Hasetsu Castle. As a child, Yuuri had seen other skaters holding onto lucky charms but Yuuri had Vicchan. Yuuri struggled to survive the next day if Vicchan wasn't by his side in the morning. Vicchan was special to Yuuri, even now he still thinks so.

 

He remembers when he left Hasetsu and struggled to adjust in his first nights in Detroit. His training was accompanied by his insomnia and fatigue and at one point he almost crashed with another skater, inflicting an injury to his ankle after he landed roughly after a triple toe loop. His rink mate and roommate, Phichit, offered to sleep beside him for a couple of nights until he adjusts to sleeping alone and his college life there. Phichit was only two or so years younger, a bubbly and friendly character with a natural flair that charms anyone he talks to. But when he's in Yuuri's arms, his body temperature resembled a child's. Thanks to him, he was able to slowly manage and no longer needed someone to cuddle with.

 

It helped when he returned to Hasetsu five years later and Vicchan was no longer around.

 

Viktor brought Makkachin with him to Hasetsu, and his presence helped soothe the loneliness left by Vicchan. The dog clung onto Viktor but eventually reached out to him and to the others. Yuuri couldn't believe that Viktor's dog would rather sleep on his bed than his owner's, snuggling by the window side on most nights. Makkachin is the last thing he sees and the first greet him the equivalent greeting of 'good morning'. He's sure that Vicchan would have loved to play with a new friend.

 

Like the sudden change of the seasons, Viktor appeared like the heavy snow of winter, blooming into his mundane life in time for the sudden storm of flowers in the spring. The lazy smiles in the morning and the exchange of yawns during the busy nights felt all too real and domestic and exclusive to him. Once in a while, he needs someone to pinch his arm just to make sure it's not a dream but whenever Viktor leans on Yuuri, the warmth of his weight pulls him back.

Yuuri's devoted collection of magazines that featured Viktor over the years were left piling in the closet, incomparable to all the tiny discoveries he finds about the man; from finding out that his laundry is always inside-out and the way he latches onto him when he's drunk. The way he clutches his sides when he laughs too hard, to the way he tangles his legs between his during the cold nights, and the singsong tune that accompanies his name when he calls it, bundled with so much fondness and affection that makes Yuuri want to cry.

 

Viktor had helped him grow, and as cheesy as it may sound, he can't imagine going back to the life when they were just fellow competitors. Yuuri laughs. It had only been 4 days and he's already sulking. It was too easy to fall into the highs and lows of the competition and stay busy until the very last moment, he didn't have the luxury to brood over something. Viktor had been the fresh breath of air that engulfed him, the calm chill that's contagious with every comforting touch against the pressuring heat of the competition.

 

An echoing trail of footsteps sounds muddled in Yuuri's ears, startling him from his thoughts. He focuses on the sound and hears them slide the door to the room beside his. A few moments later, the footsteps creep closer until stopping in front of Yuuri's door, and the door creaks open. Slow footsteps walk their way towards Yuuri and he can't help but open his eyes, smiling softly as he sees the all too familiar silver hair shining against the light peering from the outside.

 

It was dark but it was light enough to see Viktor's shoulders drooping and circles under his eyes, but his face mirrored the same soft expression back. Yuuri shuffles towards the wall to make room, hoping that Makkachin has enough to stretch about. Viktor lets himself in, snuggling to find the perfect position, under the wraps of Yuuri's arms and close to his chest. The gush of cold air left unwanted as Yuuri's breath rests softly on the other's hair. Viktor smelt faintly of the sea and his mind floats to the view the ocean, wondering if it had looked different, despite being a single body of water. He wondered what Viktor was thinking about as he watched the ebbing tide and the birds fly above the waters. Viktor coils his legs around Yuuri's and it brings him closer. In the small hours of the night, it's just the two of them and Makkachin laying peacefully within the four walls.

 

"How was Russia?" Yuuri's voice whispers low and gentle.

"Yakov's okay," Viktor breathes out as he places a hand on Yuuri's waist, pulling himself closer. He buries his face in Yuuri's chest. "I missed you."

Yuuri laughs, soothing and light as he combs his fingers through Viktor's hair, revealing his forehead so that he could lean closer and plants a kiss in its place. "I missed you too." Viktor hums and Yuuri continues to play with his hair lazily, wrapping small strands of his hair around his fingers in an endless repeat.

Yuuri doesn't stop until Viktor falls to sleep, the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest level and steady. Yuuri can feel his body ease and for the first time in days, allows himself drift to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3:30 in the morning and I need to double check where my priorities lie (as far as i know, they should stay where they are haha).
> 
> It seems that the middle of the night is when all my ideas float ashore and it's a really calm environment to just stretch your fingers and let it do its thing. Even though nothing really happened in this drabble, it was a relaxing experience to let my fingers just type and hear the click-clacking of the keyboard. It's nice. I hope that I have more nights like this.


End file.
